The Slender Are Misunderstood
by TheOlympicWriter
Summary: Everyone knows about the Slender Man. But who really knows him? It all started out with a man named Noah Collins, and this is his story to becoming one of the most infamous horror figures ever known.


**Prologue: Noah Collins**

"Good morning, Mr. Collins!" the shaggy paperboy called out from across the street. Noah Collins grinned politely and returned the gesture with a wave. He and the paperboy saw each other daily, usually while Noah was out on his morning run. Each day, before dawn, he set out to obtain a freshly blessed vial of holy water from the bishop of Salem. Noah made sure that his family stayed clean of the devil, and more importantly, from witchcraft. The majority of Salem's residents had turned themselves into witch hunters, and most that didn't were believed to be witches, or infused with the devil. Noah couldn't bear to involve himself in witch hunting, so he played his part and showed the community that he did his best to prevent his family from ever nearing such satanic profanities against the church.

Upon returning home, Noah found his wife, Isabelle, sitting in the rocking chair he and his brother had fashioned for her, cradling a bundle in her arms. His infant daughter, Layla, only a few months old, cooed and felt her mother's face with her soft hands, exploring the feel of another human. Noah smiled and hung up his woolen coat; he walked over quietly as to not alarm his child. His wife met him with loving eyes and they shared a brief good morning kiss. Layla giggled when she saw her father's face, immediately reaching out in want. Noah curled his fingers around her tiny body and lifted her from her mother, holding her closely and playing with her. She grabbed ahold of his blonde hair, a feature she had inherited from him, and rubbed her fingers together while holding it in between. Isabelle and Noah watched as their daughter explored them happily.

Once Layla had fallen asleep, Isabelle and Noah spread the water around the outside of the house. Noah noticed as the neighbors eyed them discretely, though he knew the neighbors were aware that this was a daily ritual. Multiple times, he was asked about his ritual, and often he was questioned to his intentions. Some believed that their new daughter had been infused with witchcraft and that they were performing a personal exorcism, allowing their child to be portrayed as happy and healthy. Noah had successfully backed up his case in previous encounters, but doing so became harder and harder. Over the weeks, it began to concern Noah. Priests had come to check the girl and found her perfectly normal, yet the stubborn society was not convinced. Leading witch hunters had come to investigate as well, searching the home for any signs of communication with Satan. No matter how many times they visited, Noah could not seem to convince them of the truth.

Noah came inside to avoid the glares of the surrounding people. Seeing his baby asleep in the wooden crib, he lifted her into his gentle arms slowly, hoping not to wake her. The tips of his fingers caressed her warm cheeks, and he kissed her forehead with the softest touch. Isabelle watched him, knowing what troubled her husband. Noah set Layla back in her crib, leaving her undisturbed. Isabelle wrapped her arms around Noah and he embraced her, holding her and pouring his worries out into her. She touched his pale face and kissed him briefly, whispering to him reassuring thoughts.

"Our family will be alright."

**Later**

"Mr. Collins! Mr. Collins!"

Noah was surprised that the paperboy called him in such haste; he had never heard such a concern before. He diverted from his path home immediately. The paperboy met him halfway, grabbing Noah's wrists.

"Mr. Collins, you're in terrible danger!" he cried, his cockney accent ringing.

"What?" Noah questioned, surprised.

"I heard mama talkin' to the neighbors at her house party last night! I was supposed to be sleepin' but I came down for milk and heard the neighbors speakin' about you! They said you was tryin' to get the devil out of your house and that the witch hunters are goin' to take you tonight! You gotta run away, Mr. Collins!"

The news pierced Noah's heart like a bayonet in battle. He had lived in Salem for years now, ever since he was a boy. His neighbors had betrayed him based on rumors of satanic interaction. He left the paperboy with a note of thanks and sprinted home, receiving glances again from the surrounding citizens. It was more of a reason to believe the news was true. He entered his home quickly, slamming the door behind him. Isabelle looked up out of shock, clutching innocent Layla even closer to her. She stood up sharply and the child began to cry. Noah quickly stepped over and grabbed her hands, explaining that they need to leave and why. It brought Isabelle to tears and she followed him immediately. Layla watched her parents hurry to take only what was necessary, fear overtaking her.

Noah glanced outside his front window, seeing the neighbors leave their houses and preparing torches. He directed his family to leave through the back, escaping just in time. The mob slammed the front door down and prowled around the house in search of its former inhabitants. Traces of the Collins family were near impossible to find, but the slight trail left in the wheat farm behind the house made it plainly obvious. The town violently chased after the family, splitting up once the trail became less evident. Noah kept his wife ahead of him, making sure she could escape with the child first. Layla and Isabelle were his main priority, and he would not let them fail.

He stopped for a quick second and turned, thinking that he would be able catch up with his wife quickly if he did. Surveying, he was relieved to find that there was still some distance between them and he crowd. Isabelle had not noticed that her husband had paused. The two were now separated. He called out her name, unwillingly revealing his location to the mob. Isabelle stopped and turned back, determined to find her husband. Though both ran towards each other, they seemed lost. They passed each other continuously, unable to see each other's faces.

The mob caught up with Isabelle and Layla, grabbing them into their wicked hands. Noah heard the desperate cries from his wife and child, and soon he saw a blaze of fire. The sobs of desperation turned to shouts of pain and torture. Noah cried out in agony and disbelief, and tried to run towards the fire. But the closer he got, the softer the cries. Before he could reach the fire, he listened as the cheers of the people overtook the noise. He knew that he hadn't succeeded. He knew they were gone.

Murmurs came to from the crowd as to what to do with Noah. Noah could not make out their decision, but he noticed all of the torches dropped into further piles of wheat. They all escaped, and the fire blazed towards Noah. Noah began to run as fast as his feet could carry him, but the fire was faster. It clung onto Noah's clothes and ate away at him. He too cried out, feeling the burn. The vial of holy water rolled out from his pocket, something he hadn't touched since the morning. As the fire crowded around him, it began to evaporate the water, and the steam curled around Noah's body. The burning pain disappeared and was quickly replaced with a new pain.

His face seemed to tighten and stretch at the same time, added with a terrible headache. He felt as if someone had put him on a stretch machine in the torture chamber at the Queen's Castle in England. His body was pulled out long and thin, his bones cracking in an out of their joints and back in continuously. Noah writhed in pain, grabbing his face, noticing that he didn't have a face anymore. His head was nothing but a terrain, he felt his features disappear. He no longer had eyes, or a mouth. He couldn't cry, he couldn't grin. His hair had been burned off but not replaced. Noah splayed himself out on the ground, passing out from the intense pain.

Noah felt himself wake up, though he had no eyes to open. It was a strange and unreal sensation, being able to feel his features yet not possess them. He could see, smell, hear and feel like he used to…but there was an emptiness that left him bewildered. Noah gathered himself together and stood, automatically taking notice of the change in height. He must have stood at least nine feet in height, and he saw the entire field of wheat in burned shards. He trekked through the ash and came upon the scattered skeletal remains of his beloved wife and child.

With his long, bony fingers, he lifted up the small skull of Layla's body, directing his head in the direction. Noah wanted to cry. He wanted to break down into tears. The only thing preventing him was the lack of eyes from which the tears would shed.


End file.
